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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27303937">Going Through The Motions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant'>AuroraKant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober2020 [30]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BAMF Dick Grayson, Banter, Blood, But The Motions Are Torture, Crying, Dick Grayson Gets Whipped, Gen, Happy Ending, Humor, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly A Bastard Though, Not evil, Slade Wilson Is A Complicated Person, When You And Your Nemesis Are Going Through The Motions, Whipping, but a bastard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:35:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27303937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Slade hadn’t done much in the days since Dick’s capture, mostly parading around, probably thinking about the best ways to punish this funky little hero that was currently in his care. He had given him a bloody lip and some aching bruises, but Dick knew that this was only the beginning. Both of them were aware of the fact that this wouldn’t be permanent, that sooner rather than later Batman would show up to free Nightwing, and Slade would have to move his secret super-villain villa somewhere else. <br/>So, Slade would have to find something mean and painful soon, and Dick would have to endure it.</p><p>Or: Dick gets captured by Slade - at this point this is almost routine for the two of them - but Dick could have done without the whipping.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Slade Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober2020 [30]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948651</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Going Through The Motions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemini_Baby/gifts">Gemini_Baby</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I DID IT!!!<br/>I FINISHED WHUMPTOBER!! THIS IS THE 31 FIC OF THE MONTH OF OCTOBER! 154k words were published in this month, in this collection by ME!!! WHOHOOOOOO!!!!!<br/>And I really hope you all enjoy it as well - and I hope you like this fic, Gem! &lt;3</p><p>Comments, Kudos, Congratulations and Bookmarks make me very, very happy!!!! &lt;3&lt;3&lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is the last time you get in my way, boy”</p><p>“That’s what you said the time before that as well”</p><p>Dick sent a grin in Slade’s direction, blood coating his teeth, making him look dangerous and unhinged. Dick might be chained down, he might be beaten and bloody and aching, but the one think Slade would never be able to beat out of him was his spirit.</p><p>“Maybe this time you will learn.”</p><p>There was a dangerous gleam in Slade’s one and only eye, the light filtering through the only window of the cell illuminating the white hair adorning Slade’s head. It would have looked angelic, if Dick didn’t know that Slade was a demon inside.</p><p>The confrontation that had led to Dick being tied down in a dirty cell below Slade’s compound had started like any other. Nightwing’s information network had gotten an anonymous tip, informing him of a hit Deathstroke had been hired to perform. The only thing that had made it unusual, had been the fact that it was a child Slade was supposed to kill. The heir to an environmentally friendly firm that threatened to overrun the oil market.</p><p>Of course, Nightwing had to stop it.</p><p>Of course, Dick had to be stupid enough to get caught.</p><p>He had managed to ensure the girl's escape. Once she was away from Slade's clutches, she could inform others that people were trying to kill the heiress. That should be enough to ensure her safety.</p><p>But in doing so, Dick had painted a giant target on his back. Deathstroke had never liked it, when one of his operations – as he liked to call them – got interrupted. Deathstroke hated it even more when it was a hero that stopped him from killing a target.</p><p>Especially when it was Nightwing who got in the way of things – the two of them having a history of shared encounters that tended to end bloody after all.</p><p>Slade said it destroyed his reputation in villain circles, but Dick thought it spoke for the man. No one had managed to subdue the mercenary for long yet. No matter how much they tried.</p><p>But this time Dick hadn’t been able to just beat Slade into submission, until the contract got too complicated for Slade to fulfill and the man pissed off. No, in order to save the girl, Dick had been forced to give up his own freedom.</p><p>And now… and now Nightwing was captured.</p><p>Slade hadn’t done much in the days since Dick’s capture, mostly parading around, probably thinking about the best ways to punish this funky little hero that was currently in his care. He had given him a bloody lip and some aching bruises, but Dick knew that this was only the beginning. Both of them were aware of the fact that this wouldn’t be permanent, that sooner rather than later Batman would show up to free Nightwing, and Slade would have to move his secret super-villain villa somewhere else.</p><p>So, Slade would have to find something mean and painful soon, and Dick would have to endure it.</p><p>It was weird, this game of theirs.</p><p>They weren’t friends, rather far from it, but they weren’t enemies either. At least not in the way Jason and the Black Mask were, or Bruce and the Joker.</p><p>Deathstroke was Nightwing’s nemesis… but most of the time the two of them could actually hold a civil conversation:</p><p>“You sound so cliché, Slade. ‘<em>Maybe this time you will learn’</em>. Hah, another check for my villain monologue bingo.”</p><p>“You cost me forty million bucks, boy. Maybe your daddy can afford that, but for most people that kind of money makes a difference.”</p><p>Dick bristled at Slade’s use of the word <em>daddy</em> but didn’t dignify it with an answer. There were better things to focus on:</p><p>“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but your secret hideout has a sauna. You are not too bad off yourself.”</p><p>Dick knew he was only trying to delay the inevitable. Slade would hurt him. And Dick would punch harder the next time they saw each other as a retaliation. It was the circle of life – or the circle of their animosity.</p><p>Right now, Slade hadn’t yet revealed what method of creating pain he would choose next, the fist that had coated Dick’s teeth in blood, an answer to Dick’s first question in captivity.</p><p>Okay, so maybe Dick shouldn’t have asked if Slade had ever thought about therapy instead of killing people as a way to relief some stress. But, hey, they all had their own role to play.</p><p>They were running in circles around each other, or at least Slade was running – Dick couldn’t move from his position kneeling on the floor.</p><p>“I was wondering what would hurt you. I thought about things to permanently maim you… but no, Daddy Bats would be unavoidable, if I did that, wouldn’t he?”</p><p>Slade was dragging this out on purpose, and – to be honest – Dick was getting tired of it:</p><p>“Yes, yes, Bruce would be a bitch if you cut off my arm. What did you settle on? Chinese water torture? Water boarding? Classic beatings?”</p><p>“Sometimes I miss the times you were afraid of me, Richard… you were quieter back then.”</p><p>“I was never afraid of you. I just respected my elders – and then I met you.”</p><p>The backhand came to no surprise. Dick let his head follow the force of the hand, minimalizing the injury to his neck and cheek. It stung, of course, it stung, but it didn’t break his jaw like Dick knew it could. Slade was frowning when Dick looked at him again – Dick was grinning.</p><p>“You are a pain to be around, kid. But since you asked… I think, it has been quite some time since you’ve been taught some manners, hasn’t it? I heard whipping should be rather effective with that.”</p><p>Dick knew he wasn’t imagining the malicious tilt to Slade’s voice. And when the words registered, he knew why: Whipping was quite a horrible method of punishment. Mostly because it often took weeks for the injuries to heal completely. And they tended to scar.</p><p>Dick must have shown his displeasure on his face, because Slade laughed like the asshole he was.</p><p>“Oh? Not so mouthy now?”</p><p>“Asshole, I’m just mourning the beautiful skin on my back.”</p><p>It wasn’t Dick’s most innovative answer, the quip coming out belayed and less bratty than the ones before, but Dick hadn’t given up yet. Not that he planned on giving up later. He just had to center himself again – in a sense he liked water boarding better. Because yes, the psychological damages of that tended to linger – and Dick still remembered the weeks when he was fifteen and showers had given him panic attacks – but at least the pain that came from those was easier to explain.</p><p>People tended to recognize the scars that came from violent whippings.</p><p>“Oh, did I scare little Richard?”</p><p>“No, you bastard. Come on! Let’s get this over with!”</p><p>Maybe it was weird to ask for his torture to come quicker, but Dick just wanted it to be over with. It would be painful, it would be humiliating, Dick would most likely lose consciousness at some point… the sooner Slade got started with this sadist fantasy of his, the sooner Dick could escape when Batman crashed through a strategically placed sky-light. Speaking off…</p><p>“Do you have any sky-lights in your unnecessarily fancy evil lair, Slade?”</p><p>“No, and no, I also don’t have any secret tunnels.”</p><p>“Dang it.”</p><p>Slade was sighing his long-suffering sigh again. Dick bathed in the knowledge that he would be beaten bloody soon, but at least Slade would he forced to listen to his bullshit. Sometimes Dick wondered if Slade thought Nightwing was a lot dumber than people gave him credit for, and then he remembered that the mercenary – with his insidious plans might – be one of the few bad guys that actually respected Dick’s intelligence.</p><p>They just liked to annoy each other. And beat each other up.</p><p>Slade’s gaze wandered from Dick’s chains to the dimensions of the room, probably calculating if his whip even fit in the chamber Dick was kept in. Whatever he decided on, Slade didn’t seem to like the conclusion he came to.</p><p>“Okay, I will have to move you – get you out of here and into my trainings room. No bullshit on the way over, or I’ll actually cut off your feet. Daddy Bats be damned, but you are annoying as fuck.”</p><p>Dick waited patiently as Slade opened the restrains connecting his shackles to the floor, waiting for the right moment to maybe accidentally escape. His legs cracked and tingled when Slade pulled him up into a standing position; kneeling on the floor for so long leaving them numb. The first few steps out of the room were painful, his legs shaking, Slade’s hand in his neck unnecessarily painful.</p><p>“Ouch! Leave it, Slade! That is like super uncomfortable, do you know how much my chiropracticioner wants for an hour? 60$, Slade… that is a lot of money.”</p><p>But Slade ignored him. Dick would have too, his ramblings taking on a desperate tone. God, he hated being whipped. He hated the pain that felt like fire, and he hated the fact that it would be impossible to even lay on his back for weeks.</p><p>Recovering from lashing and whippings had always pulled Dick’s strings. He wasn’t made for long bed rests and slow recoveries…</p><p>In every hallway they conquered, at every door they passed, Dick searched for a way to escape. He found nothing. For a moment he played with the idea of fighting Slade directly, but he was exhausted, his back hurt, and he had barely eaten anything in the last few days.</p><p>He would lose. And maybe Slade wouldn’t cut off his feet, but he would sure as hell find something a lot more damaging than just a bit of whipping. Maybe he would destroy the soles of his feet, making it impossible for Dick to walk without being in immense pain, or he would brand him or carve him up like a turkey.</p><p>They might not be enemies in the way Bruce and the Joker were – but Dick knew that both of them had lines the other rather shouldn’t cross.</p><p>And if Dick tried to fight Slade while in the man’s home… there would be nothing good waiting for him once it was over and he laid defeated on the ground.</p><p>So, with no escape in sight, Dick let himself be guided to the trainings room, like a lamb to its butcher.</p><p>He let his eyes wander, taking in every information he could find. Slade’s house was tastefully decorated, the villa a base for his operations, but really also a home. If Slade wasn’t preparing to beat the living daylights out of Dick, he would almost feel bad for the fact that Slade would have to move once this was over.</p><p>It was a nice house, Dick was sure it could feel homey after a long, tiring night out killing people. Or whatever Slade did in his free time to have fun. Dick would really rather not think about that.</p><p>The trainings room was bleak in comparison, the walls concrete, the floor covered in thin trainings mats. There was a Mu Ren Zhuang in the middle of the room, and Dick already feared that he would be tied to the wooden trainings dummy, while Slade got his whip ready.</p><p>“You know… for a man who has so much taste, I would have thought your trainings room would be cooler. I mean… even Lady Shiva has fancier fighting mats, and she is on the run like 90% of the time.”</p><p>Slade kicked him in the knee, forcing Dick to kneel once more, before he allowed himself to answer Dick’s absolutely genius comment:</p><p>“Maybe I should just cut off your tongue. Less babbling, you can still fight… I am sure Batman would be grateful. Finally<em>, some quiet</em>.”</p><p><em>Okay… that one actually hurt</em>. But Dick didn’t let the surprise at the words of his tormenter show on his face. Instead, he only raised an eyebrow, as Slade restrained him once more, the wooden knops of the Mu Ren Zhuang dangerously close to his face, should he fall forward.</p><p>“You only say that because you have no idea what good communication looks like. That’s probably also the reason why your wife left you – can’t stay with a man who thinks ‘Shut up’ makes a good conversation.”</p><p>His words were biting, and Dick could see something icy in Slade’s glare. Ah, well, it seemed as if fun banter time was over, and painful torture time had just begun.</p><p>Slade stepped away from the dummy, leaving Dick behind, who was kneeling on the floor, his legs already starting to ache:</p><p>“It would be better for your health, boy, if you learned when to speak and when to shut your mouth.”</p><p>Dick watched with cautious eyes as Slade stepped towards a weapon rack, multiple leather whips decorating the thing. There were different models, and Dick really hoped he hadn’t pissed Slade off enough to chose one with barbs braided into the leather. A simple, well-kept leather whip would already hurt enough, even through the material of his suit, but a barbed whip? Dick would be crying in pain after the second hit.</p><p>And Slade wouldn’t stop after just two lashes. Or when Dick started to cry.</p><p>The whip Slade ended up choosing looked normal enough, but Dick couldn’t allow himself to relax just yet. There was always something more to it, always something hidden and nefarious when it came to Slade.</p><p>And as the man came back towards Dick, a smile on his un-masked face, Dick knew he had been right.</p><p>“This is my favorite whip. An old man in Nebraska braided it for me, he’d been in the business for over fifty years, best quality you can find – there is steel cord braided into the leather. It hurts less than barbs or blades… but it hurts more consistently.”</p><p>Dick denied an answer, staring unflinchingly into the face of his tormenter. His nemesis. His sometimes frenemy. This would suck, but Dick would survive it. This would be a pain in the ass, and Dick would curse Slade many times in the weeks to come, but once this was over… once Dick would be allowed out in the field again, he would make sure to make Slade’s life a living nightmare.</p><p>Payback was a bitch, and all that, and Deathstroke and Nightwing were caught in an endless circle of revenge and uncomfortable alliances.</p><p>Dick was forced to react, however, when Slade kneeled down next to him, a knife suddenly in his hands.</p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>“Now, I endured the smell of your disgusting, dirty suit for the last few days, but you will only get an infection if I use my whip while you wear this… thing. So, I am cutting it away.”</p><p>Slade sounded annoyed with himself, as if he hated the fact that he cared. Other times Dick might have teased him about it, but for some reason he just wasn’t in the mood today:</p><p>“Here’s another idea: Just don’t torture me. Bam! No risk of infection at all!”</p><p>“Don’t get ahead of yourself. And you sounded rather eager earlier… did something dampen your spirits after all, <em>boy</em>?”</p><p>The knife was cool against Dick’s skin, the suit falling away in tatters. Alfred would be pissed, this was Dick’s last suit that was still whole… had been whole, now that Dick could see the black—blue spandex-Kevlar weave decorating the floor.</p><p>“You are an asshole, Slade Wilson, and I wholeheartedly hope that vultures are going to eat your heart soon.”</p><p>“They would be disappointed – I have no heart left.”</p><p>Dick almost laughed at Slade’s declaration. No heart! Hah, Slade would have killed Dick ages ago if he had no heart… if Deathstroke would be truly heartless, it wouldn’t be Nightwing fighting him, it would be the entire Justice League trying to stop a monster.</p><p>But Dick’s laugh died in his throat, a cool sensation touching his back:</p><p>“Wha-?”</p><p>It was impossible to look behind him to see just what Slade was doing, but the man seemed to sense his confusion, Slade’s voice tight as he explained:</p><p>“Disinfectant wipes – to get the sweat off your skin.”</p><p>This dance of theirs was complicated, one misstep and one of them would end up dead or worse, one mistake and they could create more pain and horror than any one of them wanted. But somehow their relationship allowed for violent battles, and sessions of torture… but it also allowed for disinfectant and the knowledge that Slade wanted to hurt him and not kill him.</p><p>Dick would make him pay for this later.</p><p>Apparently, Slade was done, the big hulking form of the other man vanishing from Dick’s field of vision with silent steps. The nature of this torture made it impossible for Dick to look directly at Slade while he was being whipped, instead, he would be forced to brace his hands against the wooden dummy in front of him in order to keep his head from violently crashing against the wood.</p><p>It was infuriating to wait and listen. He could hear Slade pace behind him, knew that the older man was only doing this because he knew waiting was its own special kind of torture, and there was nothing Dick could do to stop it. If Dick spoke now, daunting and bantering and bickering, Slade would only wait longer, would only make it hurt even worse.</p><p>The first lash came out of nowhere, the sound of air cracking and contracting along the leather the only warning before the whip connected with Dick’s bare back. A soft grunt escaped him, the force of the hit so strong, his knees skidded over the mats, air being forced from his lungs.</p><p>The pain came later, almost a couple of seconds after Slade had pulled the whip back. It was pure fire crawling over his skin. He wasn’t bleeding. Yet. But Dick already knew that it wouldn’t be long before his skin split.</p><p>“Shit… you asshole.”</p><p>“I told you, good quality pays off.”</p><p>The end of Slade’s words was marked with another hit, another line of fire. Dick’s back shuddered under the force of the lash, Slade’s super soldier strength giving all his lashes an extra kick, another layer of pain.</p><p>Dick tried to keep the noises of pain at bay, the constant slapping of leather on skin already humiliating torture enough, but when the sixth lash connected with his skin, Dick couldn’t help but whimper. His skin had given up, blood welling up were steel-laced leather had touched his back.</p><p>The wetness crawling down his body was disgusting, the lack of his suit making Dick feel vulnerable and nude, where he was neither. He was paying the price Slade had wanted for saving that girl’s life. He was doing what any hero should do.</p><p>It just sucked.</p><p>As long as he reminded himself of the life he had saved, of the future he had ensured, maybe it wouldn’t be as bad, maybe the blood wouldn’t feel as daunting as it did.</p><p>“How long do you think you can suppress that scream, kid?”</p><p>Dick wanted to punch Slade, wanted to rip himself free of the Mu Ren Zhuang and beat Deathstroke bloody… but he couldn’t do that, his shackles too professionally secured, his body too tired to fight.</p><p>“As long as I need to, you old bastard.”</p><p>Another whiplash, another cut across his entire back.</p><p>His skin was tingling, his nerve endings on fire. Everything felt too real, too close, and the sensations were building up. He wouldn’t cry. Not yet – but he could already feel the tears forming behind the lids of his closed eyes.</p><p>A fierce scream tore itself free when Slade’s fucking steel whip connected with his back for the fifteenth time, blood running down his body in rivers of red. It was too much… the pain tore through his entire body with an intensity unknown to man. Dick opened his eyes. He was panting, his mouth still open from the remains of the scream.</p><p>It didn’t make Slade stop. If anything, it seemed to encourage the man, three lashes coming in rash succession. They hit his back with a wet slap, each of them a new wave of agony, another explosion of pain.</p><p>Dick stopped counting after that. And somewhere along the way his eyes closed as well – maybe they were trying to protect him.</p><p>There was just pain on pain on pain. Theoretically he knew it was only his back that was bleeding, only the skin facing Slade that was being torn open and apart, but it felt as if Slade was pulling ever muscle out in the open.</p><p>He must have started crying at some point, since there was a reprieve in this endless torment, something cold touching his overheating face. Dick blinked his eyes open, only to see Slade carefully dry his tears, something self-satisfied in his gaze, something soft in his voice:</p><p>“You are strong, boy. Thirty lashes and you only started crying now.”</p><p>Dick’s own voice sounded far off to his ears, and yet he forced the words anyways, slurring them as he spoke:</p><p>“The next time we see each other, I am going to break your kneecaps. Because <em>fuck you</em>.”</p><p>Slade only laughed and then he was gone again. Dick left alone with the training dummy in front of his face and the agony cursing through his veins.</p><p>Of course, this didn’t mean his torture had ended, no, Slade had only toyed with him, giving him a break, before coming back with painful ferocity.</p><p>Dick almost bit off his tongue when the next hit connected, his entire body rocking forward painfully. Maybe Slade was starting to hit harder, or Dick was slowly breaking down, but it felt so much more intense when pain ripped through him this time.</p><p>“<strong>Ahhhh!</strong>”</p><p>Again and again and again.</p><p>It just didn’t stop. It became harder to only stay in one place, harder to let his shoulders stay strong as they braced against the dummy. Each whiplash sent him skidding, each contact of skin and leather a firework of pain.</p><p>His voice was breaking, hoarse around his screams of agony.</p><p>He wasn’t sure how much time passed, or how often Slade’s whip came down on him, he only knew that the corners of his vision began to bleed white, his focus straying further and further.</p><p>Another hit connected with his spine, sending him stumbling, tumbling, falling. His arms were no longer strong enough, his entire body sagging forward. Another hit, another wave of pain, and his head forcefully slammed against the wood of the Mu Ren Zhuang.</p><p>For a moment the world stopped, only the fierce throbbing in his left temple feeling real, and then everything started to move. A swirl of nausea overcame him, everything a blur of color. Another slap was audible – was that his own bloody skin that had made that noise? – and suddenly everything was black.</p><p>Or not black, but just a confusing mix of grey and white and pain. He was losing consciousness some far of corner of his brain noticed… and he welcomed the deep black when it finally came, pulling him under and away from the agony and the whiplashes.</p><p>It wasn’t relaxing, but it was better than being awake, the noises and sensations of the outside world no longer reaching him.</p><p>It felt like an exhausting eternity later, when he blinked his eyes open again, the world around him painful and bright, only to be greeted by the face of his mentor.</p><p><em>Bruce</em>.</p><p>Batman.</p><p>Dick was safe. And as another wave of pain crashed over him, he closed his eyes again. He didn’t need to be awake for what followed. He could be sure that everything would be alright.</p><p>His dad had come and saved him… now Dick only had to sleep until the world had healed itself.</p>
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